


Annointed

by WaterlilyRose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ASoIaF, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Kylo is King of the Seven Kingdoms, Loss of Virginity, Mutual Pining, Rey is his Queen, Reylo - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterlilyRose/pseuds/WaterlilyRose
Summary: The Seven Kingdoms have finally been freed of the Mad King. And the Skywalker descendant Kylo Ren is the obvious heir of the Throne.Rey is beloved in the North and even holds the title of Queen with some families.For peace in Westeros, a marriage between the two makes sound political sense.If the two opponents find each other captivating in the process... all the better.A Reylo Game of Thrones Crossover.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write a new Reylo story for a long time. And the latest divulge of Game of Thrones due to the last season made this an obvious choice.   
> A huge thanks to Jess444 for making the beautiful moodboards. She's my biggest support. 
> 
> Tumblr: https://waterlilyrose.tumblr.com/

 

Kylo stood below the throne, staring up at the monstrous chair made of a thousand swords. It was an ugly thing – sharp, foreboding, promising pain. It was said that Snoke had gained many cuts from putting his arms in the wrong place. Kylo could well believe it – not that the old mutilated man need any more abrasions.

 

It was a throne that inspired awe and terror. Anyone who wanted to sit on it was a fool. The Seven Kingdoms was made up of fools. He himself was a fool.

 

It had been a long battle to get back here – back to the Red Keep, back to his family seat. His mother had never sat upon that throne though – Leia Organa would never have sat on such a throne. It was as likely as seeing her perched on a throne of skulls.

 

Leia Organa would never have done a great many things. She would never have named him Kylo Ren.

 

“ _That is not your name – I will not call you it.”_

 

Leia Organa was not the Queen. She had been a princess but never a Queen.

 

Now he would sit on the Iron Throne and rule the Seven Kingdoms. He would do what his mother never did; he would be King.

 

He thought victory was supposed to taste of something.

 

“Your Grace?” Kylo turned his head to look at the trembling messenger. Mitaka had always been scared of him. “We have much to discuss.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Who will be your Queen.” Kylo looked at the speaker. Ser Armitage Hux had been his lieutenant and commander in the field of battle. Kylo looked upon the pinched expression of impatience on his pale drawn face and lamented, not for the first time, how he had come to need this man’s help. They were not friends; had never been friends but Hux had seen the way the wind was blowing as Snoke had steadily lost his mind and all support. Kylo did not doubt that, had Snoke gained an inch in terms of strength against the rebellion, Hux would have rushed back to ‘the rightful King’. He had been as devoted to Snoke as he had been afraid. Kylo couldn’t blame him for that – he had been the same for so very long.

 

_War makes strange bedfellows, I suppose._

 

Kylo turned away from the throne and looked at Hux. He was listening so the man may as well speak.

 

“You have the right blood but not the people’s love.” Hux continued. Blunt and to the point – if he carried on like this, Kylo might like him more. “You need a Queen that will unite the people and satisfy all sides.”

 

Kylo suddenly realised who Hux meant and his chest grew tight enough to make him want to take several deep breaths. There was only one woman who held the regard and respect of enough people to make him utterly secure.

 

Still… he needed to hear Hux say it. He needed Hux to say her name.

 

“Who?”

 

“The Northern scavenger, Rey Niima. There can be no other girl who would make the North content.”

 

Rey. _Rey_.

 

Rey Niima – the girl who had come from Jakku, a village so close to the wall she may as well be a wildling. She had even gone beyond the wall in search of Kylo’s uncle Luke Skywalker. There had been a prophecy about how Skywalker had been the last hope for the Seven Kingdoms. He was, after all, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Only when it became apparent that Luke had as much desire to be King as Hux had to swear his fealty to a songbird that Rey had gone to Leia Organa at her Northern exile of Winterfell to swear herself to her cause. Which was to get Kylo back on ‘the just side’ and to make him King.

 

If Skywalker’s son would not ascend the throne, his grandson would have to do.

 

Kylo had met Rey at the dreary castle. Snoke’s madness and bloodlust had driven Kylo to finally break away from the man who had brainwashed him from the cradle. He had been surrounded by enemies and hostile faces – not even his army of a hundred men, soldiers and sellswords alike, made him feel anymore secure. Only the fact that Leia Organa had commanded no harm came to her son assured Kylo that his throat wouldn’t be cut as he slept.

 

But oddly enough, that did not perplex him half so much as the sight of the tall, slim woman standing beside his mother.

 

Dressed in furs to stave off the cold of the North, Rey had the bizarre mixture of delicacy and iron strength. Her face was girlish and soft with a small little nose. She even had freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. How a girl could acquire freckles in the North was a question that Kylo had no answer for.

 

He had heard so much about her. She had it – the gift that so few had. The Force pulsed through her with as much strength and intensity as Kylo’s own signature. For years, Kylo had heard this detail with resentment and fear. If she had power as great as his own, why wouldn’t the small folk choose to gather behind her? It was said she had the love of the North.

 

In that moment, as she stood on the side of his long-estranged mother after abandoning the man who had trained him to see others as a threat, Kylo knew beyond any doubt.

 

She had no desire for power; only peace.

 

Her ambition was simply to survive and live happily.

 

_I will make it happen._

 

Kylo had never considered himself chivalrous. Or particularly unselfish. But just once, he wished himself to be the knight of his childhood storybooks. He wished to protect and serve this Lady.

 

Of course he found his naivety amusing now – she didn’t need protecting. She could fight like she’d been born with a staff in her hand. He’d seen her in the training yard from his spot above on the battlements. She managed to put three fully armoured Northmen on their back.

 

He’d tried to talk to her though it was hard. She was always surrounded. But his opportunity presented itself when he came upon her in the Godswood.

 

The Gods that the Northerns worshipped were very different to what Kylo has spent his life worshipping. The Seven Gods that he had prayed to at the Great Sept had seemed as grim-faced and unyielding as the stone they were carved from. He had been gifted with his powers through the Gods and his bloodline yet he had never looked upon them with love. Gods were cruel and to be appeased; love was worthless to them.

 

The red tree that stood so prominently at Winterfell was a strange yet beautiful thing. Not even in the woods and forests surrounding King’s Landing where Kylo sometimes hunted was there anything as grand as this. Kylo was an outsider to this way of life yet he felt more at peace as he approached the tree than he had ever done amongst the prune-faced Septas of King’s Landing.

 

Rey was stood beneath the tree, her eyes closed and her hand upon the wood. It was like she was letting the tree’s life pulse through her. Kylo wanted to turn away in that moment; this was too private and he was an intruder. But her eyes opened and she looked at him. Her hand dropped from the tree as through burnt and she even took a step back.

 

“Forgive me, Milady. I did not mean to frighten you.”

 

“You didn’t frighten me.” Her tone was defensive and her face hardening. He was her enemy even if they had never spoken. “And I am no lady.”

 

“You are the Lady of the North. It is said amongst even the poorest of King’s Landing.” Kylo reasoned. “You have… what I have. The Force.”

 

The Force was a strange and frightening thing to those who didn’t understand it. It gave you the power to jump to impossible heights, have the best reflexes that no mortal man can defeat, see what will happen through visions and the ability to control minds. It was even said that men from Bravos trained their assassins to emulate a Force users ability to fight with such skill. Granted, Kylo didn’t have the ability to change his face but he could see through a disguise as easily as seeing a fish through water. He could sense her power. It was like his but brighter and more brilliant for the light that surrounded it.

 

“I do.” Rey mumbled looking down. “I have not had much training but… I have learnt.” Rey looked up at him. They were about seven feet apart yet Kylo felt her warmth as through she were wrapped around him. “You are… not what I expected.”

 

“What did you expect?” Kylo asked perplexed.

 

“I don’t know. Just… not you.” And, before Kylo could query her further, Rey turned and walked off quickly. Her cloak trailed behind her.

 

It had been their only time alone together. Kylo had mounted his horse with his men the next day and ridden out to battle Snoke’s forces. He had looked to her one last time from her place on the battlements and ridden off to face his face. He had avoided looking too long at his mother – after what he’d done… he may never be able to look at her for long ever again.

 

He would either win or he would die. Kylo could admit, if only to himself, that he’d been more prepared for death than victory.

 

Yet he had won. He’d gone before Snoke and for the first time had been able to hide his intent from the Mad King. All his old mentor had sensed had been determination and resolve.

 

As a sword from the throne had come free and sliced the man in half, Kylo had envisioned her face as Snoke’s torso fell to the floor with his legs remained seated on the Throne.

 

_For her. For her peace._

 

And now… she could be his. His lady wife. His queen.

 

_The sun and stars to my moon._

 

“The North will never agree to let her marry me.” Kylo said tonelessly. It was better for Hux to think he felt too little than too much. “No doubt they are already preparing a garrison to come and finish _me_ now.”

 

“You can’t prepare a garrison with no men. People are sick of it; sick of war, sick of death, sick of fighting a battle they don’t even care about. The realm wants peace. And if she sits beside you on the throne, the North will be appeased.” _They might even accept you. In time._ It wasn’t said but Kylo heard it clearly.

 

Kylo looked again at the throne. It was an uncomfortable seat. Only a mad woman would want to sit beside it.

 

_There will be no other who could even hold a candle to her light. I_ want _her. And so does the realm._

 

“Very well.” Kylo agreed. “Send an envoy to the North with the offer. No doubt they will want to hammer out terms before anything is agreed. Let us hear what it would take to have her as our Queen.” Kylo looked again at the throne. “Send someone to clean the throne too. I do not want to start my reign sitting in a puddle of blood.”

 

* * *

 

In the Great Hall of Winterfell, the lords and knights of the North were all seated to listen to the messenger that had ridden at breakneck speed to be there. There had been a shout of cheers and celebrations at the news of the death of the Mad King Snoke. And now… silence. A ringing silence as the messenger passed on the news of Kylo Ren’s offer.

 

At the High Table sat three figures. In the middle, a woman approaching sixty with greying hair done up in an intricate braided up-do. She was small of stature but a presence that could command the respect of even these hardened Northmen. Many were sworn to her through allegiance but even if they were on the opposing side they would never turn their swords on her. One did not kill a Queen. She wore no crown but she was Queen in all but name. Indeed, her son was now the one who would ascend the Iron Throne.

 

To the left of Leia Organa was her most trusted military commander Poe Dameron. A handsome man of five and thirty, he had olive skin and black curly hair. Much like her, he had a magnetic presence and could draw the attention of every man, woman and child in his company. His loyalty was to the North – King’s Landing could burn if the North could survive. And in that moment there was nothing but dismay in his features.

 

And to Leia Organa’s right, the girl whom all of this concerned. And she was as still as stone.

 

The messenger was silent. The hall was silent. Then Dameron stood.

 

“This… this is outrageous. Rey is not a broodmare to be sold off. How can we trust she would be safe? At the capital? With him?”

 

The messenger stepped forward, keen to disabuse them of that notion. “She would be completely safe. The King, the new King, wants her as his Queen. He would prize her above all others.”

 

“They gave me safe passage once. I am lucky to have got out alive after merely a day. This cannot-” Poe was cut off by movement. Rey had risen from her chair.

 

“Rey?” Leia spoke for the first time.

 

Rey looked straight at the messenger. “Give your thanks to the King. In honour of the newfound peace of the Seven Kingdoms, I accept his offer. Pray excuse me.” And with that, Rey Niima turned from the Great Hall and exited through the side door. She didn’t want to hear protestations or cheers for her newfound royal status. She needed the Godswood and the calm the trees could give her. She needed time to think.

 

This wasn’t a surprise. She didn’t know why Poe seemed so shocked – how else would there be peace unless the North sat beside the King on the throne? Even she knew this.

 

_Maybe his hatred for Leia’s son was stronger than reason._

 

Rey entered the Godswood and sat beside the pond under the weir-wood heart-tree.

 

She took a shuddering breath.

 

She would be Queen. She would go to King’s Landing. She would be the wife of Kylo Ren. Of Ben Solo.

 

_His name is Ben._

 

When she had never known him, when he had been a mere name whispered in contempt, Kylo Ren had been the perfect name for him. Sharp, hard, unyielding.

 

So when he had come to Winterfell to help their cause against the Crown and to support them in a bid to be free of the grasping manipulator, Rey had been winded and shocked to see the man.

 

He was very tall and strong. Shoulders so broad that he could probably seat two small children on each one and a powerful frame. His hair was curly and fell to the nape of his neck. But what really amazed her was his face.

 

The man was a walking contradiction of features. Deep set, dark eyes, a long regal nose, plush lips that made him look like he had a habit of sulking and skin like marble with a smattering of moles. He looked manly yet boyish; commanding yet insecure; defensive yet contrite. In short, he was a beautiful mess of a man.

 

And he had blushed when he looked upon her.

 

They had only spoken once. Right here in the Godswood and Rey knew that she was being drunk in like ale at a tavern. He had a sensitive look about him and Rey had been shaken by how very normal he was. And how handsome her enemy appeared to her eyes.

 

After that, Rey had never thought of him as Kylo Ren. He was always Ben to her now. Sometimes as she lay on her pallet at night, she would whisper his name into her pillow.

 

It felt like a benediction in a breath.

 

_My first condition is that he will be crowned under that name. There will be no King Kylo._

 

Rey knew this was not for fleshly concerns; this was a political arrangement. She didn’t know him and had heard enough to turn her cold. Including his father’s fate.

 

_Don’t think about that._ Rey closed her eyes to the thought. Leia did not talk of it and neither did anyone else. It was a shadow upon their hall; even if it was never spoke of, it would never not be there.

 

She would be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And would have to move to King’s Landing. That was the thought that gave her the most tremors.

 

She was a woman of the North. She loved the North. She knew nothing but the North. King’s Landing was… so very far away. She would be alone in a capital she had never been to with a man she barely knew. It was hard to be excited when you were so scared.

 

Rey looked up at the red leaves of the heart-tree and watched the wind make the branches dance and bend.

 

The future was stretched out before her. The present was fleeting. Best to enjoy it while she could.

 

* * *

 

Preparations for the trip to the South went ahead without Rey noticing very much. Food was collected, horses were saddled and prepared, personal items were packed. Rey noticed everything and nothing from her usual place beside the fire.

 

There would be people from the North coming with her to court. Finn had been the first to make his intent of following her clear. He had also been the first to bend his knee and pay her homage. It had been so absurd that Rey had burst out laughing at the very sight.

 

“I am not Queen yet Finn.”

 

“As you say,” Finn stood up with a cheeky grin, “Your Grace.”

 

Finn had a story as daring as her own sorry life. Finn had been born in King’s Landing to unknown parents (she could identify with that deeply) and taken in by the King’s Guard to train as a Sentry. Apparently Snoke had seen the advantages of taking in boys who feel outside true born status to train. And then he had started taking the children of established families; he had ordered their deaths if they made too much fuss. Finn had no idea from which he came from. Did he have a mother still living? Would he find her at the Red Keep? Did she fight and scream to keep him until the Gold Cloaks had silenced her with a sword?

 

Finn wasn’t going to be a soldier who blindly followed orders. He had refused to slaughter civilians at his first day on true duty. And then he had helped Poe Dameron escape the Black Cells and ran with him back to the North. There he had met Rey.

 

Rey wasn’t sure what the love of a family felt like. But she was sure she felt it for Finn. He was her brother; her best friend and her confidante. She wasn’t going to just let him go.

 

Rose was coming with them too. Finn’s wife was never going to just watch her husband ride south without her. Also Kaydal, Jessika and Poe Dameron were coming for the wedding. Poe had been named Warden of the North in her absence while she took her seat as Queen so while he could not stay, he would witness the marriage he found so distasteful.

 

And Leia was coming too.

 

She was the blood through which Ben made his claim and must be visible in watching her son marry the Queen in the North as Rey was already being styled. And it was her son that Rey was joining to. Rey wanted Leia there – if only for the woman to witness her son taking a woman to wife that Leia actually approved of.

 

The morning of her departure dawned and Rey stood beside her horse, looking up at Winterfell and trying to drink in as much detail as she could. Who knew when she would be back again? Who knew what would be changed when she came back?

 

She herself might be changed.

 

Her fellow riders began to mount up. Poe Dameron looked the most dejected of all.

 

Rey considered him. She didn’t think she would be flattering herself if she recognised that Poe seemed to have been taken with her. Rose had pointed it out to her several times. It was flattering but never anything more for Rey. She could not deny that Poe was an extremely handsome man and possessed the hearts of many of the women of Winterfell. She had it under good authority that he had bedded both Kaydal and Jessika and probably countless others. But her?

 

No. She was fond of Poe, no doubt, but she had always kept a healthy distance. Rey didn’t know what she wanted altogether from a man but devotion to only her bed was something she would have to insist on.

 

_He would love me but he may struggle with the faithful part._

 

What would be waiting for her at King’s Landing? For all the rumours that she had heard of Ben Solo (and there had been too numerous to count) she had never heard of him in regards to taking lovers. Finn had told her that there had been a strict code of morality within the barracks and, while visiting brothels and prostitutes was allowed, any man caught in the act of rape was gelded and hanged. Was that just a facade to cover his own sins? Would a nursery of bastards be waiting for her at King’s Landing? Rey didn’t believe so.

 

She wasn’t sure what would be waiting there.

 

Mounted on their horses, a cry went up as they began to depart.

 

“The Queen of the North!” Someone called. The cry went up all around her as she departed Winterfell. Rey’s eyes burned at the sound.

 

_Queen of the North or Queen of the Seven Kingdoms; I will be a Queen to them. I will earn my crown._

 

* * *

 

Six weeks. Six weeks and five days it took for the Northern party to arrive at the gates of King’s Landing. He had travelled the path himself many times so he knew that they weren’t being purposefully slow.

 

Yet Kylo found himself pacing the palace like a caged animal as he waited for them to descend.

 

King Ben. Because apparently King Kylo didn’t have as nice a ring to it.

 

It irked him somewhat. That was a name he had left behind long ago. He had been a weak, scared little boy when he had cast it aside. It didn’t inspire anything remotely positive in him.

 

Hux, with his usual scowling impatience, explained that he needed that name more than he would ever like to admit.

 

“You are named after a great statesman. Kylo Ren was an enforcer and a figure of fear. If you want to be King, you need to inspire some kind of love.”

 

_I will inspire more love than you ever could_ was all Kylo could think in response.

 

Yet it was only when the messenger came back with the North’s response that he finally acquiesced.

 

She agreed to his proposal. She would marry him. She would be his Queen.

 

So when the messenger came with the requirement that he take back up the name Ben for his reign at Rey’s request, he acquiesced with barely a sound.

 

_Whatever she wants. Just come._

 

Now they were at the gates and Kylo could only stare out of the window of the Red Keep as they came forward. He must be sat upon the Iron Throne when they were presented to him. Running through King’s Landing wouldn’t do at all.

 

_We should meet in the gardens. Alone. Without an audience._

 

Rey has never been to the city, Kylo mused. The smell alone must be something of a shock. Still the gardens of King’s Landing were fragrant when in full bloom. And Kylo doubted that Rey had ever seen a full summer garden in bloom.

 

Kylo made his way to the throne room and took his seat upon the throne. It was an uncomfortable seat to sit on. No wonder Snoke went mad.

 

The wait was almost painful as the remaining gentry of King’s Landing waited to greet their new Queen-to-be. When the doors opened, Kylo had to force himself to remain seated.

 

A gaggle of Northmen clearly unaccustomed to the heat of the South came forward into the room. Their steps were slow as though they were worried that they might be set upon any moment. Kylo only saw the woman at the front.

 

She was just how he remembered her; brunette hair done up into three buns and with dark clothes of poor quality but clearly for warmth. She had more freckles on her nose than before from her ride through the kingdoms. Her hazel eyes were wide yet she approached unrelenting. She seemed as stunned to see him again as if he’d appeared to her through a haze of smoke. Kylo did stand then and descended the steps to meet her. Whoever was behind her did not matter – all he saw was her.

 

When he reached the ground, he noticed that she was really rather tall for a woman. Most women only came to his abdomen while Rey came to his collarbone. For a moment, they merely looked at one another. He felt as though he could look and look at her until his eyes rotted from his head.

 

Remembering his courtesies (such as they was) he took her hand and brought it to his lips. Her skin was soft and her hands slim but calloused.

 

“Milady.”

 

Rey merely stared for a moment but did not pull her hand away. Indeed her hand seemed to fold his tighter.

 

“Ben.”


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> The response for this fic has been overwhelming and I thank you all with blown kisses to all of you. I'm a little later updating this week due to suffering an accident with a bad cut on my thumb that made writing difficult.
> 
> I'm aiming for an update of once a week so I have time to make sure the chapter is the quality I want and also make it regular for the readers. 
> 
> Thank you! And Enjoy :)

Rey’s new chambers allowed more light into the rooms than the strongest fires Winterfell could provide. The Northern stronghold held a special place within her heart yet it looked foreboding and gloomy on first sight. Soon though Rey had come to see King’s Landing as something of a magnificent shell – pretty to look at but hiding something woefully different. Indeed, coming into the city had been something of a revelation. For a start, it smelt rather… pungent. Was this what cities were like?

 

“You will get used to it.” Finn assured her as they rode through the gates. “I barely smelt a thing by the end of my time here.”

 

“No wonder you absconded.” Rey mused drily.

 

Yet riding through the streets to the Red Keep had been something of an eye opener. Many of the subjects of King’s Landing came out to see their new Queen and Rey was stunned to see them cheering and shouting out calls of good luck to her. They had never seen her before and probably viewed the North as hostile and proud; yet here they were – cheering her entrance and ready to love her.

 

Rey smiled to the people and waved at the little children and promised herself that she would do her best by them.

 

She would lay aside her title as Queen of the North and become Queen of the People.

 

Rey had spent the first hour in the city simply sitting on a cushioned chair and looking around her new rooms agape. She had never seen such luxury: there were muslin curtains blowing gently in the breeze, golden goblets of wine for her to drink and red satin cushions decorating a rather obscenely large bed.

 

Serving wenches were preparing her a bath in the corner of the room – if she must sit and gape then she could do it in the tub. She must attend a banquet tonight.

 

Tomorrow was her wedding.

 

_Even in such a comfy bed, how will I sleep?_

 

She had entered the Throne Room with her banner-men and attendants close behind her. The Great Hall made the one she had left behind in Winterfell look rather meagre and insignificant. The nobility of the realm, who no doubt would have put up with Snoke’s rule if it hadn’t started negatively impacting them, all watched as she came forward.

 

For once, Rey did not even notice them. Her eyes were fixed upon the Iron Throne.

 

And the person sat upon it.

 

He was dressed all in black as though he was the Lord Commander of the Wall and not the Lord of the Seven Kingdom. It oddly complemented his raven locks and marble skin. When he stood from his seat, his height was astounding when coupled with the steps that rose the throne above all others. As he descended the steps, Rey found him becoming easier to look in the eye though it still required her to crane her neck a little – he truly was an extremely tall man.

 

Whatever it was to be a King, Ben had it. He was an imposing presence that seemed too large to be allowed. Yet how he looked at her – he looked stunned to see her. Almost like he hadn’t truly believed she would come.

 

He took her hand. It was tiny in his. And kissed her knuckles. Like she was a true lady.

 

_I’ll never be a lady. I’m not sure I’d want to be._

 

Rey looked at her hand as she sat in her new chambers. She could still feel his lips on her skin. It had sent a thrill through her like she’d never known. It made her chest tight and the apex between her legs tingle.

 

“Ben.”

 

His face had seemed conflicted in that moment. Almost as though he wasn’t used to the name; or maybe because he hadn’t heard it from her lips before.

 

Then Ser Hux had to step forward to make it clear they had an audience.

 

“Lady Rey,” Maybe it was Rey’s imagination but Hux seemed to relish saying it – it sounded almost mocking. Like he knew she had no intention of being one. “You are welcomed to King’s Landing. As are your… followers.”

 

It was then that Ben seemed to be aware that she had come with company. His eyes went from her to over her shoulder. And promptly dropped her hand.

 

It almost hurt Rey’s heart to see his face revert from cautious hope to a mask of aloofness. But she saw the fear in his eyes. He had seen his mother.

 

Rey couldn’t fault Leia’s demeanour. As Rey stepped aside to allow the former Princess to approach her son, Leia curtsied low as if to offer her fealty to Ben.

 

This was necessary of course. Ben’s blood claim came through Leia. She was the daughter of Skywalker and the twin sister of the man who had refused the crown. Even though the crown always passed to the next available male in line, it was always good to show exactly where that claim came from.

 

But all she saw was Ben’s face closing down. He looked uncomfortable. And yet unsurprised. He’d expected no different from a mother with royalty in her blood.

 

Rey wondered if he wanted his mother to step forward and take him in her arms. To embrace him and maybe weep. Would he find that embarrassing in front of all these important people? Too out-of-character of his mother to know what he should do? The idea of the tiny Lady of Winterfell gifting the giant she had bore a hug in which she would barely stand taller than his abdomen was so ludicrous that Rey almost wanted to laugh.

 

Almost.

 

Leia rose from her curtsey and Rey knew that it was too late. Leia was a former Princess once more; Ben the King.

 

“You are all welcome. We shall all bring the realm to peace and tranquillity.” Ben’s words did not quite match his expression. His eyes had swept over the men and women behind Rey and Leia and his eyes had settled on Dameron. Rey made a point of fiddling with her cloak so she wouldn’t have to witness the exchange.

 

_Not now. Please, you are grown men, just be civil._

 

Ser Armitage may have been a sycophant with an insolent manner but he was astute enough to know that having their guests to retire promptly to the other side of the Red Keep was a wise decision. Rey looked over her shoulder as she was led away to her new apartments to see if she could still see the King.

 

She could but he wasn’t looking at her; he’d turned back to the steps and was mounting the throne once more. There was a slight slump to his shoulders as he climbed.

 

Rey was asked to surrender her clothes for her bath and, while she was sure the maids would probably like to throw her dress on the fire, she informed them that she expected it to be looked after. She had owned few clothes in her life and she valued them greatly. Even if they meant that serving girls were dressed better than their future Queen.

 

The bath was the best of her entire life. There were petals in the water that made it smell of roses and the tub was larger than the ewer she had used to keep clean at Winterfell. The horsehair brushes cleaned her skin so thoroughly that she felt like she had lost six layers of skin by the time she rose to dry and dress.

 

Dressing was an experience such as she had never known. For a start, she needed help in putting on a dress. The ladies came forward with more dresses than she knew how to process but her eye was caught by a rose-pink gown with long sleeves and a belt that would accentuate her waist. The material was softer than anything she had ever known and she had to bite back a groan of satisfaction at the feel on her newly washed skin. It was inherently modest as far as King’s Landing fashion went; the sleeves were long enough to cover her hands and although fashioned with a v-neck, it was not low enough to expose her breasts indecently. Her handmaidens braided her hair and pinned it up.

 

For a potential Queen, she looked rather prudish. For a girl who had never known any luxury… she felt that all she was missing was a crown.

 

She turned to her new women.

 

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Kylo didn’t have much of a liking for wine. It’s something he drank out of necessity if there was no ale available (and it was rare to find anything resembling clean water in this cesspit of a city). He’d also seen far too many skilled men-at-arms lose their edge or sometimes their lives due to an over-reliance on drink. He lived a life of discipline, shunning too much rich food and eating plain meat to stay strong and agile. He did not need drink.

 

Until now.

 

Tonight his decanter wasn’t going anywhere that he could not reach and he found that Arbour Gold was really rather nice.

 

_It certainly makes sitting at the same table as my mother and Dameron much easier._

 

The banqueting hall was beautifully arranged with a dais that was lower than the Iron Throne but higher than all the other tables. So the members of the court and visiting Northern Lords would be below the King and his future Queen.

 

There was only a few members of the court in attendance as many had taken themselves to bed in preparation for the morrow. Many would no doubt skip supper that night too. There was rumoured to be fifty courses tomorrow.

 

_Seven save us, Hux. Are you planning to seize the throne by right of indigestion?_

 

This farce was purely to feed the Northern rebels and endure swapping pleasantries with men who wanted to open his throat.

 

Dameron was sat upon the dais and had made a point of refusing to look at him. That was perfectly acceptable for Kylo; he was also seated far enough away that conversation with him wouldn’t be easy even if Kylo had an inclination to attempt it.

 

His mother however was sat next to him.

 

He’d been stupid, blind really, to forget that there would be every likelihood and need for her to be present at the wedding. The mere sight of her made him want to cringe and refill his goblet.

 

Their relationship was… could it even be classed as a relationship anymore? Bridges had been set ablaze between them and most had been of his own doing. He may not be riding his horse into battle against her troops anymore – but did that truly make him her son once more?

 

She was much smaller than he remembered her. Tiny really. He knew himself to be a tall man, tallest amongst the court really, whilst his mother barely reached five foot. Her hair had once been brown too; beautiful and long with more braids than he could count at such a young age. He _could_ braid hair though. Not that anyone would ever find out. When he’d been a young boy, no more than five, he had sat on her bed whilst she sat on the floor and he would use his little hands to weave her hair into artful plaits. He did a good job too if he remembered correctly as her hair never came loose.

 

Now her hair was silver and, while still artfully styled, Winterfell had revealed that whoever did her hair wasn’t quite as adapt as he had been in his infancy.

 

His eyes strayed to Dameron who was sullenly eating his stew.

 

_You may be the son she deserved by your own designs but I knew how to dress her hair._

 

“How was your journey, South?” Kylo asked for lack of anything else to say. His mother turned and looked at him. Her eyes, so much like his, seemed to be amused. _Really? That’s what you want to ask?_ Kylo looked away and searched for his decanter again. What else was he meant to ask?

 

_How is the North? And that castle I despise?_

 

_You know Dameron is not your son, don’t you? I’d remember if that odious twat was my brother._

 

_Do you still dream of your husband? And what I did to him?_

 

“It was long and at times uncomfortable.” Leia said whilst spooning her stew to take another bite. “But the roads appear quieter now and there aren’t so many dangers to sharpen a dagger for. How do you like being King?”

 

Kylo toyed with his bread and began ripping it into chunks. What was the answer to that? He liked it well enough to not have that throne melted down.

 

“I am content.” Was he? Would he ever know contentment? Was that something the Gods would even allow?

 

Before he could go further into it, the royal steward cried.

 

“All rise for Lady Rey Niima, future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

Kylo looked towards the doors and stood with the rest of the company. Rey was coming forward.

 

He nearly grabbed for the decanter and drank from it without the need of a goblet. She was dressed in a rose pink gown with long sleeves and a belt at the waist that accentuated her tiny region. She looked like a nymph that belonged in a rose garden. His cheeks burned as pink as her dress.

 

_She is so beautiful._

 

Rey does not look left or right as she approaches the dais. She keeps her eyes firmly on the seat that awaits her next to Kylo. It is her destination and all that she must focus on. Yet as she approaches her eyes flick to Kylo.

 

There it was. That connection that exists only for them. As soon as their eyes connected, Kylo almost felt like they had the ability to read the mind of the other. He sensed anxiety, uncertainty and maybe a little cautious… excitement.

 

Could she read _his_ thoughts? A never-ending stream of s _tunning, beautiful, want to make her happy._

 

Rey took her place beside Kylo and was seated by a serving boy. Kylo was so busy staring at her that he was slow to sit back down.

 

_Let them chuckle behind their hands at me like I’m some green boy. This vision is to be my wife._

 

Rey looked past Kylo to Leia who gave her a warm smile. Dameron also looked up for the first time which made Rey gift him a smile. She was then served her dinner of beef stew, bread still hot from the ovens and potatoes swimming in butter. The look of delight on her face at such a fine meal stemmed his unease at Dameron’s looks and made him feel oddly peaceful. He allowed quiet to reign over the table as she tucked into her food.

 

It was a good thing that most of the court wasn’t present. He saw some high-born ladies that had chosen to remain look at Rey with something dangerously close to amused disgust. Rey wasn’t wasting time with delicate bites; she was hungry so she ate.

 

_She can lick the bowl for all I care. It’s nice to see a woman with an appetite._

 

“Is the food to your liking, Milady?” He asked eventually. She looked at him as though shocked at being spoken to. She’s forgotten I was here, Kylo thought amused, she’s enjoying herself so much. She made an effort to swallow the food in her mouth before speaking.

 

“Delicious, Your Grace. The cooks are to be congratulated.”

 

“Their stews are normally very good. You have only to ask whatever you desire from the kitchens and it will be cooked for you within the hour.”

 

Rey gaped at him a moment and Kylo was taken aback to see her eyes suddenly fill with tears. What had he said that would warrant tears?

 

“Forgive me.” Rey breathed deeply and looked away as though to will her emotions away. “It’s just… food was always so hard to come by as a child. To have it so readily available...”

 

Of course. _Of course_. She’d been an orphan nearly half starved almost all her life; this was likely such a turn of fortune that her head was spinning.

 

He reached out and took her hand underneath the table. It felt important that no-one saw this gesture.

 

“You will never be hungry again.”

 

* * *

 

_The sun was bright. So bright. Too bright. It made him want to cover his eyes; from the light and from what he knew was going to happen._

 

_From what always happened._

 

He _was kneeling before Kylo. The mob was facing them and Snoke was at Kylo’s back._

 

_Words were spoken, shouted really, as they seemed to echo in Kylo’s ears for what felt like hours. A sword was unsheathed. Handed to Kylo._

 

_He couldn’t. Please no, he can’t._

 

_Kylo raises the blade without feeling or even knowing what he was doing. He swung. There was a slight whooshing sound._

 

_Then red. So much red._

 

Kylo gasped awake and sat up. His torso was damp with sweat and he was short of breath. The light of the summer day was gone. His chambers were dark. He was in his bed and had just woken.

 

A dream. A nightmare.

 

Kylo threw the covers off himself and stood naked in the dark. His legs were shaking in protest of his quick movements. His knees were practically knocking together. He didn’t want to investigate why he was trembling so much. In truth, he already knew.

 

He stumbled to the wine ewer in the corner and, with shaky hands, poured himself a cup. He’d probably dreamt due to his consumption of wine that night but he knew that only a strong cup of Arbour Gold could steady him. He could call for a Maester and ask for a potion. Something that will stop his heart from jumping and allow him to sleep. He _must_ sleep; he was getting married in the morning.

 

For the first time, the idea of having Rey as his wife did not fill him with disbelieving job: it was terror he felt.

 

How could he be anyone’s husband? He was incapable, unworthy, undeserving of a happy marriage. Or even a civil one.

 

And he wondered why he struggled to talk to his mother over dinner(!)

 

He did not call a Maester. Instead he began to dress.

 

Choosing his usual black garb and a heavy rough-spun cloak, Kylo crept out of his room and passed the guards with little to no trouble. He had the ability to possess stealth such as the best trained knight could never dream to possess. And, if not, a little force mind-trick would have the guards looking vacant as their King left his room.

 

The Red Keep was dark and still with his footsteps all that was echoing in his ears. It was the oddest thing Kylo had ever experienced to see the heart of Westeros, always so busy and alive with activity, so quiet. It was three hours past midnight by his guess and the castle was asleep. Serving wenches and guards were also probably trying to get in some sleep before the chaos of the morrow.

 

He walked down, down, down until he was finally out of the King’s Gate and out into King’s Landing. Kylo looked around; this was the real King’s Landing. A city of riches, poverty, vice and making a prophet anyway you could; whether that be by selling week-old bread from the bakery or bargaining the contents of your bodice. It was never quiet in the night with taverns still offering laughter and bad ale and a fight happening somewhere not far off.

 

He walked and walked without knowing his destination or even why he didn’t just try and go back to sleep. It was only when cobbles gave way to marble beneath his feet that he looked up and saw where his feet had taken him.

 

The Great Sept was a shining pillar of virtue and opulence surrounded by a city that seemed to be rotting on top of itself. He would come here tomorrow to say his vows.

 

He needed to be alone for this; he needed to be alone when he came face-to-face with his past.

 

Kylo climbed the steps and stood where he had stood That Day. The sun had been hot and beating down upon his head. He had been at Snoke’s side. Snoke, who looked like the living embodiment of the city he was the tyrant of, was dressed in kingly gold that was as gaudy as anything Kylo had seen then or since. There was a reason he wore black. The man, that boy, had stood at Snoke’s side as He was dragged out.

 

Han Solo.

 

The man had spent weeks down in the Black Cells and looked wasted and weak yet still oddly proud. Even with his hands tied and presented to the mob as a traitor, Han Solo was still the man who had come from the very bowels of Flea Bottom and married a princess.

 

He was broken but never beaten.

 

Kylo had felt oddly satisfied at the time. He was to confess his sins towards his lawful King and would then be sent to the Wall. He would cast aside his riches and his wife whom he had barely seen in years. And he would disappear from Kylo’s life.

 

_Safe but absent. As he’d always been._

 

Han Solo would keep his life and maybe in time regain his honour. Kylo felt oddly at peace with that.

 

Han had spoken. He seemed to begrudge the words as though any moment he might recant but, when he caught Kylo’s eye, Kylo remembered the slight shake of the head he had given.

 

_Say it. You don’t have to mean a word. But just say it and live._

 

He gave himself to Snoke’s mercy and awaited his judgement.

 

Now the memory made Kylo feel nauseous. He’d been so stupid; so naive. He really was a slow learner; a child in a mask. Mercy? From Snoke?

 

He should have known that there would be none.

 

The King had made a show of weighing up his options. A mummer’s farce. Kylo couldn’t remember the dross that had come from that poisonous mouth except how it ended.

 

“ _As long as I reign, treason shall never go unpunished. Lord Ren, bring me his head.”_

 

Kylo had felt the blade thrust into his hands as uproar went up around him. The Septon, who had not sanctioned such bloodshed on his doorstep, was pleaded for mercy. The crowd, who had loved his father so much once, shouted for the deed to be done.

 

And Han was forced to his knees.

 

Kylo had looked at his father.

 

_This… this wasn’t the plan. I wasn’t meant… I can’t… please don’t make me…_

 

One look at Snoke made him very aware what a failure to do his duty would entail.

 

He turned to look at his father. Oddly, he looked unafraid. Unsurprised.

 

_Do it_ , his father’s eyes had told him, _do it and do it quick_. _Don’t let it be one of Snoke’s butcher men. You wanted mercy; this_ is _mercy._

 

Kylo had gripped the sword and raised it high.

 

_Thank you._

 

Kylo’s eyes wanted his father to know that he was grateful. And truly sorry.

 

The blade, by some miracle, had done the job quickly. Kylo supposed that was a mercy and a miracle in itself.

 

Kylo’s eyes burned as he tried to see the step. They had cleaned it well; there was no trace of blood on the stone. But on his hands? No lye soap would ever scrub them clean.

 

He knew what he was the eyes of Gods and men; Kin-slayer.

 

_I killed my own father._

 

_I had no choice._

 

_And he paid for that lack of option, didn’t he?_

 

Kylo stepped towards the spot where Han Solo had died. What was his last view? The mob? The statue of Baelor? Or did he close his eyes and see only Leia? And the little boy that had once been his son?

 

Kylo knelt down until he was where his father had been.

 

_This was the last view he ever had._

 

Kylo couldn’t see what his father had seen. It was too dark and his eyes burned.

 

_And I can never ask him now. I can never ask him anything ever again._

 

Kylo sat on the step and let himself do what he had not been allowed to do that last time he was here; he wept.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> I can only apologise for the delay.The blows of the endings of GOT and Star Wars rendered me devastated and I needed time to cool off. GOT Finale left me angry; TROS just left me heartbroken. Why was 2019 the year of let downs? 
> 
> Anyway, I've taken up the pen again. And hopefully it will be worth waiting for.

Rey was woken as the sun was rising over the city and the sky was a mottled combination of pink, purple and blue.

 

_It’s such a beautiful sight. So why does it remind me of a bruise?_

 

A bath was drawn for Rey once more, and while yesterdays had been for the soul purpose of washing away the traces of horse, sweat and inns that had nothing more to offer than old straw for her to sleep on, this bath was different.

 

The bath had scented soaps from Bravos and special potions for her hair – this was the bath that would scrub away winter and braid summer into her hair.

 

_Like the song,_ she thought as the women lathered up her hair.

 

In a queer sort of way, Rey found this preparation less enjoyable than the banquet last night.

 

After her bath, Rey was seated beside the fire (the quicker to let her dry) as food was brought forward to break her fast. Honey oatcakes, hot bread and two boiled eggs were set on a little table.

 

For the first time, Rey struggled to finish a meal.

 

Her wedding dress had not been of her own choice nor had Rey even seen it. So to see the gown, heavy with seed pearls and puffy sleeves, Rey almost want to laugh.

 

_This gown isn’t for me or even for Ben; the city wants a bride who is a Queen. So I have to look as garish as possible._

 

Rey stood perfectly still as she was laced into her gown and had jewels added to her ears, neck and wrists. They were heavy and the corset of her gown stole her breath. It made her lithe figure even more slender. Rey mused that it would be more correct to have stuffing put onto her hips to make herself look wider. All the better for baring healthy sons, the old women at the Sept would muse. Good childbearing hips for our beautiful Queen. Instead, her hips were narrow and her shape boyish. So she must be made more so as penance.

 

_They are marrying me to a man they believe me to despise. Isn’t that penance enough?_

 

Her feelings for her future husband were confusing but it was definitely not hatred she felt. Not for a man who seemed almost shy around her but with eyes that both shimmered with kindness and burned with desire. But did she love him?

 

How could she? They had been at opposite sides of the battlefield just a summer ago. She had spoken maybe about five sentences to him and had not been granted privacy to ask him about his likes and dislikes.

 

She did not hate him and he did not seem to want her dead – that was as good a foundation to build a marriage on as any in her mind.

 

Eventually the handmaidens ceased applying rouge to her cheeks and held up a mirror for her to inspect herself. What she saw was a glamorous Queen who had been trussed up in finery and wore too many jewels.

 

It was perfect.

 

_The Seven Kingdoms needs a Queen. Today I will be her in every way._

 

* * *

 

Kylo knew that his menservants were at something of a loss to make the bruises under his eyes less livid. No doubt, his skin was a sickly white that made even his formerly pale pallor look healthy. He was not the image of a blushing bridegroom; of that he knew. He did not much care what the court and small-folks thought of him.

 

_Seven above, let me look somewhat respectable for her. It’s the least she deserves._

 

His doublet was dark blue with slashes in his sleeves to show his red under-shirt. His breeches were black and showed off his powerful thighs rather well. Even if Kylo wasn’t overly fond of his appearance, he could admit that he was well-made physically. The constant pressures and torments that Snoke had demanded of him as a boy had turned his shoulders broad and his chest muscles the size of dinner plates. He’d been told, mainly by camp followers and working women, that he was a handsome man. He didn’t believe it and therefore didn’t take up their offers for a tumble in the sheets.

 

_I am coming to my marriage bed a maid. Surely one of us should know what to do?_

 

Oddly, Kylo wasn’t too worried about that. Who knew? It might reassure her a little. He doubted if he had proven himself an ardent lover with a nursery of bastards that she would like him any more in her bed.

 

Besides… he could still see his father’s face.

 

_I don’t want to get married today. Tomorrow or next week but not today. I can’t stop thinking about_ him _today._

 

He let his servants get him dressed without a word.

 

Sitting at his table, he stared at the blood sausage, oatcakes and hot spiced wine that was meant to break his fast. The oatcakes looked like they might stick in his throat. The blood sausage… what had possessed him to ever like that? So only the wine had been welcome. It was too early to drink so he drank deeply.

 

Kylo was staring out at the rising dawn of King’s Landing when his mother was announced. Kylo barely wanted to turn away from the window. But he did his duty.

 

His mother was dressed in a sumptuous silver gown so dark it was almost black. Her hair was coiffed and she looked very much like the Queen she never was. She took a moment to look at her son who was dressed for his wedding day. For a moment, her face was soft with tenderness.

 

“Yes.” She said softly. “You look very handsome, Ben.”

 

Kylo couldn’t remember a time when he was complimented so easily by his lady mother.

 

_I was sent away as a boy. It didn’t give us much time to bond._

 

“Thank you.” He replied uncomfortably.

 

There was a pause and then Leia held out a bundle in her hands that he hadn’t noticed until then. “Your wedding cloak.”

 

Kylo looked at it warily. It was not the First Order cloak (of course it wasn’t) but the ancient Skywalker cloak. It was cobalt blue and sown with the great sword that Anakin Skywalker himself had once wielded.

 

“It took quite a bit of work but it’s an exact replica of the wedding cloak my father gave my lady mother on their wedding day.”

 

Kylo took it wordlessly and looked at the detail of the stitching. It was exquisitely done.

 

“What will Rey wear?” He asked quietly.

 

“Ah. We had an idea and she will be cloaked well.”

 

“Good.” Kylo suddenly wanted to be alone. He felt as though his mother had come in to find his doublet soaked in his father’s blood – he felt caught and exposed. “I shall meet you at the Sept.”

 

Knowing herself dismissed, Leia nodded and gave a small curtsy. Kylo felt as revolted as the deferential display as though she had made an obscene gesture.

 

_I am to cloak Rey with this. I am to drape her shoulders with a legacy tainted with violence._

 

Kylo pondered how much bad luck a First Order cloak would bring instead and called for another cup of wine.

 

* * *

 

Rey was seated in a litter to make her way to the Great Sept with the curtains tied back so the people could see their future Queen. Rey smiled at the waving citizens and tried not to notice the contrast between her own glittering appearance in meerish lace and seed pearls and the clear poverty of King’s Landing. Some of the children who had come from Flea Bottom…

 

_How can they show such joy for me when one sleeve of my gown could feed them for a year?_

 

Rey looked to Poe who was sharing her litter. It would be him who would give her away.

 

“ _I am the Warden of the North. Some call you the Lady of the North. It is right for the North to give you away.”_

 

Rey could not think of anything so uncomfortable considering Poe’s clear hatred of the bridegroom and his questionable feelings for the bride – but it made sound political sense. Poe had tried to seem jovial for Rey’s sake (for he was clearly under the impression that Rey was tense and quiet due to reluctance of the marriage) but he looked pained on occasion like he was experiencing a tooth ache. He also smiled for the passing crowd – he was a showman, born and bred.

 

The Great Sept awaited…

 

* * *

 

Kylo had barely had stomach to watch as he had waited with the High Septon.

 

_She is coming. I can hear her._

 

She was a few feet from him when he finally allowed himself to look. And there she was: a vision in white satin, diamonds and puffy sleeves. He did not even notice Dameron besides her, looking daggers at him nor notice him through the entire ceremony where he looked like he was sucking eggs.

 

They looked at one another and no one else throughout the ceremony. She looked so lovely that it was impossible for Kylo to look away. Her hair was loose and flowing with a small diadem perched atop her head. They said the seven vows for each deity and then came to the cloaking ceremony.

 

Rey turned her back so that he could remove her maiden cloak. That’s when he saw it – her cloak.

 

It was a beautiful white cloak with a red tree stitched in immaculate detail. The vines and branches stretched out as though the Northern Gods wanted it known that, although they were deemed old and superstitious by the South, they would be felt at this ceremony.

Gently, Kylo removed the cloak. Rey shivered a little at the new presence of cold on her arms. Kylo cloaked her quickly with his own wedding cloak to make her comfortable again.

 

And with that, it was done. She had passed from the North’s protection to his own.

 

She was his lady wife. And he was her lord husband.

 

They turned to face one another again.

 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.” They said this together as instructed. And Kylo let himself touch his lips to her own for the first time.

 

He did not attempt to touch her tongue but there was restrained passion in their movements. Rey touched his forearms as though to keep him close as he kissed her and he let his hand move up to touch her neck as they kissed.

 

_Seven Hells, no wonder the women of the brothels make so much money._

 

They finally moved apart and looked dumbly at one another.

 

_I am hers and she is mine. From this day to the end of my days._

 

* * *

 

Rey fell to her knees without too much effort. It didn’t matter much. Kylo was kneeling too.

 

They were to be crowned together.

 

Rey was glad to kneel – her legs were weak from that kiss.

 

The High Septon droned on about the duties of the monarchy and the sacred duty that would dominate their lives.

 

And then… there was a weight placed upon her head that made her diadem feel light in comparison. The crown had not been adjusted since the last Queen nearly fifty years ago. When Padme Amidala had borne the responsibility of the Seven Kingdoms.

 

Luckily they had a similar size head.

 

Rey looked to the side. Ben was wearing a crown larger than her own. It looked heavy and cumbersome.

 

Together they rose from their knees and turned to face the Great Sept.

 

The entire audience dropped to their knees.

 

_I have been married, kissed for the first time and crowned all in the space of five minutes. This is quite a morning. And the night is still ahead of me. Especially this night._

 

“Long may they reign.” The High Septon cried.


	4. 4

Kylo was given the option to change for the wedding reception but had declined. His doublet was still in as good an order as it was half an hour ago and was comfortable enough to endure the many courses of food that Hux had promised.

 

_Seventy-seven courses. And Hux doesn't believe that to be a bit excessive. Our people are starving and we will be feasting on every animal the Seven Kingdoms has to offer._

 

Kylo used the time that the bride would take to change out of her gown into something that allowed movement to collect himself. He was in a bad humour which was not Rey's fault and something he did not want to leave an impression on her.

 

The ceremony itself had been good; almost wonderful. And the crowning had gone well (it didn't fall off his head anyway). But afterwards…

 

_If only they didn't stand me_ there…

 

He was feet away from where he had revisited just the previous night. Feet away from where his father had died. Died by his own hand as well.

 

_Was it just a shadow… or was that blood that stained the steps?_

 

Kylo had been forced to smile and endure. He stepped back as much as he could and let the crowd see their new Queen. Rey was radiant with her new crown atop her head and she made a point to wave to each of her new people.

 

_She will be loved even if I never am._

 

He touched his lips. It had been a tame kiss. He had kissed women before. Well, _a_ woman. It had been a camp follower. She had been bawdy and confident and Kylo had been frightened at her movements. She had been kind though. When she saw he didn't seem to like it, she'd stopped. She'd patted his cheek and asked if maybe his mind was with another. He hadn't at the time but pretended he did so she wouldn't find him odd. She called him sweet and went off with a bag of gold that Kylo had given her as both payment and an apology.

 

Kylo had established himself as being a commander and not a lover. It was a title he was comfortable with. Snoke had hated the idea of Kylo being committed to anything but the First Order and as his sanity slipped away he became more demanding of his general in the field. Snoke had wanted him to train until his skin bled and his muscles screamed. Kylo did all this and more to show his devotion. But it was never enough - Kylo just wasn't able to reason with him. It was a while before Snoke made it apparent that he had lost all reason but once Kylo realized it was a lesson he couldn't unlearn.

 

_He's gone. You sliced him in half with a throne sword and watched his blood drip down the throne steps. He can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt Rey._

 

Snoke knew how to hurt him. Yes, he had endured a few slaps to the mouth which left him with a bloody lip but what was worse were the words. Spiteful, hateful words that were all for Kylo.

 

_"Pathetic boy!"_

 

_"Idiot!"_

 

_"Who would want you? Who would have the patience I do?"_

 

_"Do you think giving you up was a hardship for your mother? She wanted rid of you as soon as you left the womb. Nothing was as precious as her kingdom."_

 

There was truth in the lies. And that made them worse for Kylo. He knew enough to know that Snoke had never cared for him… but when no-one else seems to love you, where else do you go?

 

_Enough. Time to meet my guests. And my wife._

 

The Great Hall had been transformed for the wedding feast with tapestries and lit lanterns so that even the Iron Throne wasn't too much of an eyesore. At the entrance, Rey met him with her ladies.

 

She was wearing a simpler dress with an empire line cut and reminded Kylo scandalously of a night gown. Her hair was still all a tumble around her shoulders and she smiled at him. It looked a little tight but there was genuine warmth in her eyes.

 

"Milord."

 

"My lady wife."

 

She flushed at those words. He held out his hand and she took it. Together, hand in hand, they walked to the raised dais where they would sup.

 

* * *

 

The smell of bread and roasting meats filled the hall. Rey inhaled it as discreetly as she could – it was such a glorious scent. For a girl who had to hunt her own dinner and steal bread for years, it was like paradise. But the sheer amount of food that awaited them made Rey feel slightly nauseous. But Ben lent in and whispered some advise:

 

“Eat a mouth or two of each dish. The rest can go to the small folk. King’s Landing will not go hungry tonight.”

 

Ben could not have said anything better and Rey beamed at him. He seemed taken aback by her smile – he went rather red. It was endearing.

 

“Thank you for that. Did I…” Rey swallowed “Did I do okay? At the ceremony?”

 

Ben gave a crooked smile. “I’ve never been married before. But you did nothing that wasn’t perfect.”

 

They had to look away at the approach of their guests.

 

Leia Organa looked splendid in her gown of dark silver and made a deep curtsy to them. “Your Majesties.”

 

Ben seemed to tense. Why did the sight of the woman who bore him cause him such discomfort?

 

“Thank you for coming.” Rey said then wanted to disappear with embarrassment. It was her son’s wedding day – where else would she be?

 

“It was my pleasure dear. You look breath-taking.” Leia looked then to her son. “I wish you long life and many children.”

 

There was something far too formal and impersonal about how Leia addressed her son. Something too regal and removed. Was it because he was now the King… or because Leia didn’t know how to bridge the gap? Did she want Ben to be the one to fling his arms around her? If she did, she would have a long wait.

 

Ben bowed his head formally and said nothing to keep her in their presence longer. Maybe he wished he had because Poe was the next guest to pay their respects.

 

“Your Majesty, never was there such a beautiful Queen of Westeros.”

 

Rey felt Ben stiffen beside her. And she doubted it was because Poe had chosen to completely ignore him.

 

“You are too kind Poe. I hope to be all a Queen can be.”

 

“You will be everything to everyone.” And then he turned and strode off without so much as a nod to Ben!

 

Rey flushed and turned to Ben. “Forgive him. He is too proud by half.”

 

Ben merely waved his hand. “It makes no matter. I’d rather not pass pleasantries anyway. This is meant to be a good day.”

 

Rey said hello to nearly a hundred guests before they were allowed to raise their cups. Ben was looked to as the King to give a toast. He stood and with the eyes of the court upon him he said simply: “To the Queen.”

 

The crowd gave shouts of approval and drank deep. Oh yes, her husband could be very gallant.

 

The first courses came out and Rey took Ben’s advice and took merely a few bites of her food. It was hard because the food was delicious and it was against every principle of Rey’s life to waste food.

 

_It won’t go to waste. King’s Landing will go to bed full tonight. Ben promised._

 

After nearly ten courses of various birds, fruits, soups and meats, Ben turned to Rey.

 

“Are you comfortable? Do you have any requests?”

 

Rey shook her head. “None. In truth, it is already too much.”

 

Ben gave a little smile. He looked gentle when he smiled; so much younger too. “It is part of being a Queen. I was not jesting last night when I said you would no longer be hungry or overworked – if anything, you will know luxury. I want only to be of service to you.”

 

“As my King?”

 

“As everything.” Ben looked around as though to check they were not to be disturbed or, worse, overheard. “We may make an unlikely pair. But I do not want a marriage built on feuds. I believe we can be good friends. Maybe, in time, you may even have a tenderness for me.”

 

_He does not use the word ‘love’. We aren’t in love but could we be one day?_

 

“I thank you Sir. And I will endeavor to be a good wife.” Whatever that entails.

 

Ben’s eyes still looked a little wanting like it wasn’t quite what he would have liked to have heard but he nodded.

 

“For now, that is enough.”

 

A dish of trout studded with cloves and garnished with lemon was brought out and Rey turned her attention back to her meal.

 

* * *

 

The night had gone dark and the pigeon pie had been served with lemon cream. Kylo also discovered that if he continued to drink Arbour Gold wine, he felt more and more sleepy. He stuck to dark beer for the rest of the feast to keep his wits about him. It had been Hux who had announced that it was time to put the couple to bed.

 

It had already been decided that the traditional bedding ceremony would not be attempted. Kylo wasn’t exactly enamored at the idea of giggling women helping him out of his clothing. But the very idea of the men of the court undressing Rey… seeing her vulnerability and potentially making crude comments about her body…

 

_My wedding day would have ended in bloodshed. And that’s unlikely to get her in the mood._

 

No, instead she would be escorted to her wedding bed in her nightgown and placed in the bed. Then they would leave them alone to do the important bit. Only Kylo would see her nakedness. He didn’t give a fuck about tradition.

 

Hux had got his way with most things but not this.

 

Still there was a lot of hooting when Kylo and Rey left the hall to prepare.

 

Kylo did not have any groomsmen or male companions to drink with as he dressed in a black tunic and matching trousers and he would rather drink a cup of nightshade than drink with Hux or Dameron. So while he sat down upon his bed to wait, he pondered how he felt so far removed from the idea of a bridegroom. Surely he was meant to feel excited and maybe a little smug. But other men rarely came to their beddings untouched and he wasn’t like them in any way.

 

_Most men haven’t had the upbringing I’ve had. I’m a soldier first and a man second._

 

In nearly no time at all, Rey’s bridal party came forward with their bride. Rey was gowned in a loose flowing nightdress and a taffeta robe to cover her in company. Her hair was loose and she had never looked more lovely. At the sight of him, she turned crimson in her cheeks.

 

A few women, well into their cups, giggled and cheekily blew kisses to Ben at the sight of him in casual dress.

 

“Shall I help you undress for your bride, Your Grace?” One particularly bold serving wench asked.

 

“I _am_ undressed. My sword is in the armory.” Kylo felt mounting dismay at the sight of his mother amongst Rey’s women. Could this be less arousing?

 

Rey saw where his eyes were drawn and quickly spoke up. “I wanted her here. She… I was nervous.”

 

Did he make her nervous? Frightened? Couldn’t she see how afraid and clueless he was?

 

_She will. As soon as she realizes I have only a little knowledge and no experience._

 

He wanted to take her hand and tell her that she mustn’t be afraid and he felt it too. But the women were now placing a white sheet on the bed to catch her virgin’s blood and Rey looked slightly ill.

 

“Is that really necessary?” Kylo demanded of the room. His voice was sharp and the giggles suddenly died.

 

“M-my Lord, the council will require p-proof.” One of Rey’s Northern women, Jessika he believed, explained.

 

“I think it is time we let the couple retire.” Leia Organa suddenly announced in a voice that brokered no argument. The women all curtsied and began to back away as Rey climbed into the bed and pulled the coverlet over her to wait. Leia looked to Kylo. “Be good to her.”

 

Kylo wanted to laugh in her face. Who was she to give him motherly advice? And what the hell did she expect him to do? He would never hurt her.

 

The door closed and suddenly they were alone. Kylo was standing at the foot of the bed and Rey was sat at the top under the covers. They felt miles apart.

 

“Would you… like some wine?” Kylo asked.

 

“No, thank you.”

 

Okay. Fine.

Kylo sat down on the bed. “Rey… please don’t be afraid. I would never cause you any pain.”

 

“I’m not afraid of pain. I can endure it.” Rey then lay back in the bed. “Go on. Do your duty.”

 

Duty? Do his duty? Was that all she saw him as? Something she must endure?

  
A cold finger ran into his stomach. Why must he always be a task to complete?

 

Grabbing a pillow by her head, he turned his back to her and walked towards the chaise at the other end of the room.

 

“My… Milord?” Rey’s voice sounded small; confused.

 

“I won’t be a burden to anyone; least of all my own wife. If you don’t want me in your bed, I will not force myself into it. Good night Milady.”

 

He threw down the pillow and made himself as comfortable as possible on the tiny chair.

 

Kylo did not turn back around the entire night. And judging from Rey’s sniffs and gulps, neither of them got any sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The responses as always are overwhelming. Thank you for all your feedback and encouragement.
> 
> I've got a difficult month ahead of me for personal reasons so any continued feedback would be hugely appreciated. I love you all.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me kudos and comments if you like this. It's all the payment I ever get for my fanfics.


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